I wasn't always so cynical.

That was what Tim said to himself, casting a glance towards the door after it closed behind Chen. It was one possible answer he could have given, even if he didn't consider himself cynical so much as practical. I used to have hope, and look where it got me.

He thought about what Chen had told him earlier that day; that she'd wanted to meet her soulmate for most of her life. It was yet another thing that separated their experiences. His timer had been blank for the first six years, only starting counting down towards the end of his last deployment. That would've been... he paused to count, exhaling a tired sigh as he completed the tally. Fourteen years ago. Had Chen planned her future around this? Around the promise the timers touted? He hoped not, but he had learned enough over the past forty-eight hours to guess that she'd done exactly that. What made her choose a timer, Tim wondered. Was she encouraged towards it by a family member? He knew nothing about her home life, but timers were almost a rite of passage for some people.

That hadn't been his experience. Tim had paid little attention to the timers when they started appearing on the wrists of classmates as early as ninth grade. It was only when he joined the Army that he gave the damn things a second thought after the officer that oversaw his enlistment suggested he get one installed. He had no family waiting for him; Mom died when he was a kid, and his father… well, fuck his father. Point was, he was alone. He had no girlfriend, and the surface-level friendships he'd formed in high school weren't the lifelong things TV and movies would make them seem. The timer had been a mechanism for him, a way to cope. "Something to come home for," was what the recruiting officer had called it.

Tim had let himself feel hope during installation only to feel more alone than ever the longer it remained dashes. That loneliness increased for every month that the screen remained an empty row.

Maybe he believed a little bit back then. Not as much as other people; not as much as someone faithful like Chen, but something like belief in his own, smaller way. With the benefit of hindsight, he couldn't help but feel a little pathetic. Because it was, wasn't it? Pathetic, waiting to belong to someone? To know someone was waiting for him as much as he was waiting for her?

Yeah, he decided with a sigh as he laid back on his pillow. Pathetic. Maybe a little desperate too, he thought as he looked towards the door a second time. What was it that Chen had promised before she left? "I won't bother you again"? He was interested in seeing whether she'd succeed in holding herself to that. He half-hoped she would. It might be better for both of them if she did.

And if part of him wished she wouldn't (a tiny part almost not worth acknowledging), Tim would never tell.

Despite the surgery itself going smoothly, Tim recovered slower than he would have liked. A small infection formed around the sutures on the third-day mark. Even though he viewed it as minor, the doctors weren't taking any chances. He was put on an IV of antibiotics that knocked him on his ass, making his release date a question mark. Over the course of a week, a few people checked in. Lopez dropped by three times, Bishop once. Sergeant Grey came by with his wife Luna, but their visit was brief. He didn't expect many visitors, so any was… well, not a pleasant surprise, but not an unwelcome one either. Isabel had not visited, but then he didn't expect her to, anyway. She probably didn't even know he'd been injured.

Less surprising than his wife's absence was Chen's. She, more than anyone else, was someone he thought he'd see again, but one day became three and there was still no sign or sound from her. She was staying away. She was keeping her word. He wasn't sure whether to be grateful or disappointed.

Regardless, Chen was never far from Tim's thoughts; partially because Lopez refused to go one full fucking day without bringing her up. She texted him frequently, keeping him apprised of his recruit's whereabouts whenever she could. He hadn't asked her to do that, it was a task she'd taken upon herself. Tim did not remark on it until the sixth day, when a text came through informing him of Lucy's training officer for the next shift.

Chen is with Smitty today.

He responded by calling Lopez directly. "Smitty?" Tim exclaimed when she answered.

Lopez chuckled. "Hey Bradford. Slow morning?"

"There wasn't anyone else available?"

"It's just for today. What's the worst that could happen?"

The worst that could happen? It was Smitty. He could fill a Scrabble bag with possibilities and whatever shook out would be likely scenarios, all ending in varying degrees of disaster. "The front desk would be better."

"It's her first week. She needs to be on the streets, not at reception." When he scoffed, Lopez scolded him. "Dude, come on. Don't worry. She's going to be fine."

"I trust my training enough that I'm not worried about him undoing it in a day."

"I meant safe."

Tim's mouth felt dry as he asked in a gruff whisper, "Why the hell would you say that, Angela?"

"That's what you're worried about, isn't it? That she'll stay safe?"

No, it wasn't. He knew she would, in all likeliness, be fine. Probably. It was a little more up in the air when her TO was fucking Smitty, that was for sure. "Whatever. Just make sure he doesn't get her killed."

There was a hint of a smile in her voice as she replied, "I'll do my best, Bradford."

He wondered if Lucy was aware that Lopez was keeping him informed of her moves. Tim already knew she was smart, so she might have guessed that there was a level of reporting back to him going on. At that thought, her last words said to him rang in his head again, playing on repeat. Bored with TV reruns and laid up waiting for the infection to heal, there was a lot of time to think, to parse. He pulled apart her last words, trying to figure out a meaning where maybe there wasn't any.

You're going to be important to me.

Only going to be? Did that mean he wasn't already? That he would be soon?

How soon? And how much?

And how true could it be if she said it, then immediately followed it with a promise not to bother him again?

On the seventh day, he was discharged from the hospital. Bishop and Lopez picked him up. Tim had planned on calling a cab, but they surprised him as Pilar rolled him toward the lobby, pausing halfway down the hall to take a selfie. As Lopez pulled the phone away from in front of his face, she laughed. "Well, I guess you can't always be cute. Don't think modeling is in the cards for you, man."

It turned out that his friends had driven separately, with Talia driving her own car and Angela bringing Tim's truck back from the station. It was the truck that was parked at the entrance to the hospital, but Lopez held onto his keys tightly, refusing to let him behind the wheel.

"Okay, grandpa, let's get you back to the home for pudding night," she teased, and she and Bishop both made a big show of helping Tim to his feet. He would have put up a fight about not driving his own fucking car, but he'd known both women long enough to know when a battle was worth surrendering. There wasn't much Tim could do except grit his teeth and bear the coddling.

Coddling, literally, and frankly unnecessarily. Lopez took a little too much joy out of forcing Tim to prop his feet up on the living room sofa before tucking a pillow behind his back. Then, she pulled out her phone.

He held his hand up, concealing his face. "Ugh. No more pictures."

"I'm not taking pictures," Lopez replied. "I'm calling Chen."

"Chen? Why?"

Before she could answer, Bishop reentered the living room with her nose wrinkled. "Your garbage hasn't been emptied in a week?"

"Oh no, fire my butler," he snarked.

A knock at the door interrupted Bishop's retort; she went to answer it just as Lopez pulled the phone away from her ear and began typing. A second later, she shot Tim a dirty look. "You didn't tell Lucy you were getting out today?"

"You normally keep your rookies informed of your every move, Lopez?"

"Tim?" Bishop called over her shoulder and opened the door wider, allowing a silver-haired man to enter. He recognized his neighbor from across the road and two houses down. Dennis, a retired police officer himself, frequently checked in on Tim; so did his wife, Francesca. It was something he'd come to appreciate, especially once Isabel left, but occasionally their hospitality could come off as just a touch overbearing.

Like now, as he walked into the living room with a full casserole dish in his hands.

"Sorry, son," Dennis said, sounding a little sheepish as he crossed the living room. "Heard through the grapevine that you got hurt, and you know how Franny is. She insisted."

"She's mad at you," Lopez said to Tim, returning to her point.

"Who's mad at you?" Dennis asked.

"His soulmate, I bet," Bishop answered.

"Soulmate!" Dennis beamed, looking over his shoulder on his way to the kitchen. "That timer of yours finally went off?"

"She's his new rookie," Bishop added, and that took all the joy out of Dennis' face, confusion making his brow furrow all the way up to his hairline.

"Oh, dear."

Tim ignored both Bishop's remarks and Dennis' reaction, only turning to Lopez to ask, "What did she say?"

"She said 'thanks for telling me'."

"And you interpret that as mad? That's a sentence. She has nothing to be mad about." He made no mention of her visit at the hospital, of her promise not to "bother" him again. How could she be upset about him making it easy for her to keep her word?

As he reentered the room, Dennis made a sound like he disagreed. "I don't know, Tim. Speaking from the experience only 30 years of marriage can bring, that sure sounds mad."

"Wouldn't you want to know if it were her?" Bishop interjected.

It wasn't that he hadn't thought about it. He just didn't see how that applied. It wasn't Chen, so why get hung up on hypotheticals? "What's your point?"

Lopez rolled her eyes. "You're still holding to that, huh?"

"What's he holding to?" Dennis asked.

Lopez turned to him and said, "Tim doesn't believe in timers."

"Tim? Is that true?"

"He says it's true," she answered and grinned, "but you should've seen the way he jumped up the second he saw her. It was almost romantic if you ask me."

"The sound startled me," Tim denied. "That's all." Well, at least that was half of the truth. The other half -the seeing, the feeling, the new addition of not missing her but not not missing her, either- he kept back, even as they continued to press him for more details. The badgering only solidified his resolve.

Thanks for telling me. How did Lopez get she was angry from that? It was only four words. And anyway, if Chen really wanted to know, how was he supposed to know that? He wasn't a fucking mindreader. She was the one who said she wouldn't bother him again, so turning around and getting upset that he hadn't kept her informed didn't make much sense. She didn't get to ignore him and feel entitled to information about his life. She didn't get to have it both ways.

Then again, he thought as he remembered Bishop's question, if their situations were reversed, would he want to know? Would he check in on her recovery? He wouldn't not want to know, but he also didn't see himself scrambling for info, and again, everything kind of became a moot point once she said she wouldn't bother him.

She'd really stuck with it, hadn't she? Lucy held to her promise and didn't check on him again once. He didn't know why that stung a little (or why even that little felt like so much). It made him second-guess the things that had been happening since their timers went off. Maybe that was what she meant when she'd said "someday". Maybe, right now, she hadn't been affected.

Maybe he was the only one changed by the timers going off. The thought made him feel kind of lonely, the way years of dashes had.

He was curious to know how Chen had done without him. If he was right, he was alone in wondering how things were going, and Lopez had not mentioned that she'd ever asked about him. Tim groaned when he remembered that Smitty had been her substitute TO that day. If he couldn't know how Lucy was doing, at least that he could remedy, preventing further formation of poor habits thanks to the substitute's lax policing. At least they'd avoided real danger, as far as he knew. After everyone had left, and after he'd finished eating some of the homemade chicken pot pie Dennis dropped off, Tim called Sergeant Grey.

"Officer Bradford," the sergeant greeted. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Hi Sarge," he began, trying to sound nonchalant. "I have a request for tomorrow."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. Can Chen go with anyone but Smitty?"

To this, Grey chuckled. "Well, I'm sure Officer Smitty would be glad for the break. Do you have someone in mind?"

Tim quickly ran through the options in his head, finally settling on one officer. "What about Wrigley? Give her a nice, slow day before I throw her back in the deep end?"

"You want to put her with the snail?"

"Sure do."

"… Because you want to give her a slow day?"

"What can I say? My injuries have made me compassionate."

Another laugh from Grey. "Sure they have. And I'm sure the fact that Wrigley doesn't run towards danger has nothing to do with it?"

Again, people assumed he wanted to keep her safe. He kept his voice even as he replied, "I think it'll be good for her to see every type of policing."

"Uh-huh. Sure, Bradford. I'll send your Boot to Wrigley tomorrow. Just for my planning, though, when do you think you'll be back?"

His side still smarted during sudden movements, but Tim replied, "The day after tomorrow should be good."

Grey responded with uncertainty. "Let's say two days, just to be safe."

"Sir, I can take it."

"I'm sure you can, but you're pushing forty, Tim."

"Are you calling me old?"

Another chortle. "Well, I ain't calling you 'young'," the sergeant replied.

Tim was counting on Wrigley to keep Chen, if not safe, bored. And bored, she was, if the way she looked the most stoic he'd ever seen her was any indication when he checked on her the next day. She was seated by herself in a booth in a diner. Her hands were folded in front of her, her head bowed a little as she twisted a paper napkin around her finger. Tim had first spotted her through the diner window. He'd asked Wrigley to drop her off here before he went to lunch.

A week had passed since he last saw her, and still the world evaporated the moment his eyes landed on her, just for a second or two. It didn't make him angry that time, even though it probably should have. Or rather, he thought it should. Damn it, was it always going to be this way? He hoped not, but maybe it would be worse if it were inconsistent or at random. At least if he could count on it, he couldn't be caught off-guard.

Chen, on the other hand, was stunned when he took the seat opposite her, and her face going from neutral to a frown when her eyes landed on him.

"Why the long face, Boot," he asked.

After that initial look, she avoided his eyes. "No reason," Chen replied.

"Uh huh. Sure."

"Are you here to check on me?"

Shit. He hadn't meant for her to take it like that, even though yes, that was technically what he was doing. "Please," he diverted, "I live around the corner." That was true. "I know Wrigley drops his rookies off here for lunch," because I specifically asked him to, "and since I was already out getting takeout, I figured I'd stop by." That? That was a fucking lie.

Chen didn't reply, just sort of gaped at him throughout his answer. He wondered if she believed his (mostly) true explanation, but Tim didn't wait to find out, snagging one of her fries before stating, "You must like how quiet it is with Wrigley, though."

The statement was bait, and she rose to it as she shot him a sharp smile that lasted only a second. "Actually, he's surprisingly chatty. Talks a lot about his wife, Annette." Yeah, Tim had heard of Annette in the past. Just a handful of times, and always against his will. Their love was legendary, mostly because Wrigley never shut up about it, content to spread the purer details of their marital bliss with all the joy and intensity of an evangelist. It was sort sweet, in an annoying way.

If someone cared about that stuff.

"Did you know they've been together since they were teenagers?" she continued, finishing pointedly, "Must be nice to feel that way about someone."

His brow knit together as he detected the sarcasm in her voice. Huh. Maybe Lopez wasn't wrong about her being mad.

Before either of them could say more (and before he could call her out on her tone), the radio on the table crackled to life, interrupting them.

"Wilshire units, store owner called with suspected shoplifter. Caucasian male, yellow track suit. 314 Franklin Drive."

He looked out the window, then at Chen. "That's only three blocks from here, Boot."

She didn't move. "How? How am I supposed to respond? Wrigley's not here and I have no car."

"You got legs, don't ya?"

To her credit, his comment was all the nudging she needed. Chen was on her feet within another few seconds, grabbing her radio and giving her call sign as she ran toward the door.

"Your bill?" he shouted after her.

"I'll have to owe you!"

Once she was out of sight, Tim looked down at the plate. She had only managed a few bites before he arrived and distracted her. It would've been a shame to let it go to waste, so he flagged down the waitress, paid the bill, and asked for a box. By the time he settled up and had the leftovers in the takeaway container, Wrigley had returned from his lunch break and was helping Chen with her apprehended suspect about two blocks away from the restaurant.

She had just finished getting the thief into the shop when Tim handed her the rest of her lunch.

"I had them box it up a few seconds after you ran out," he said.

She took the container. "Oh. Thanks. How much do I owe you?"

It was out of his mouth before he thinks better of it. "This one's on me, Boot," he said, turning away before she could see how his cheeks turned red, and stalking off before she could either question or decline his gesture.

Tim was approved to return the next day. He had to lean on the doctor a little bit to get the all-clear, had to promise to take it easy on the job for another week, to go slow. Even when he came into the precinct that evening and presented Grey with his paperwork, the sergeant gave him an uncertain look.

"You're sure you're ready to get back to it?" Grey asked.

"That's what the paperwork says," Tim replied. "Who am I to argue with doctors?"

Even so, Sergeant Grey didn't seem convinced. "Gunshot wound, even a minor one, I'd expect you to take two or three weeks. You've taken nine days. What's the rush?"

There was no rush, and Tim said as much. "Just feel like I'm ready for it," he replied.

Grey gave him a look. "And this has nothing to do with our phone call a few days ago?"

"Sir?"

"Asking to have Chen moved to a slower beat," Sarge explained, "that has nothing to do with this urgency in coming back?"

It didn't. "No, sir," Tim replied with a shake of his head. "Not at all. I want to come back because I've been cleared. Not because of my Boot." Then, he asked, "How is Wrigley handling her anyway?"

"Worse than Smitty," Grey relayed with a snicker. "Chen is the first person to get Wrigley to run in ten years."

"Saw some action?"

"Oh yeah. Kidnapping."

A pause, then Tim asked, "All okay though?"

Grey seemed to understand the question wasn't just about Wrigley. "Yeah, they're okay." He looked at Tim's paperwork one more time. "Well, if there's no changing your mind, back at it tomorrow, Officer Bradford?"

Tim nodded. "Yes, sir."

He came upon Wrigley as he was walking through the bullpen, heading toward the garage. It didn't take long for Wrigley to steer the conversation towards Annette (it always went to Annette with him). Tim grinned and bore it for a while, but the conversation soured when it turned towards his and Chen's timers.

"Surely you were excited when it hit zero, right?"

Tim had to shrug. "Timers aren't really my thing, Wrigley." He was reaching the point of tattooing it on his forehead just so people would stop asking. "Not too sure soulmates exist, either."

"Not too sure?" Wrigley snorted, but it wasn't mean. Nothing was ever mean with him. He was too golly-gee to be snarky. "Well, I'm sure, Bradford. I am."

"No offense, but I think you and Annette may be the rare exception."

"Oh, how sweet. You should write for Hallmark."

He laughed at that, and it was at that moment that Lucy joined them, walking up as Tim was mid-chuckle. Wrigley turned to greet her first, and that was lucky for Tim. That dumb world-disappearing thing happened again the moment his eyes landed on her, and letting Wrigley lead the conversation for a second allowed him the chance to blink the reaction away. So far it wasn't fading. So far, it persisted, happening every time she crossed his field of vision. He wished he knew why.

Only when Wrigley left did Tim turn to speak to Chen. "I'm cleared for duty. Turned in my paperwork."

He was expecting some reaction to the news. Maybe not joy, or excitement, but something. What she gave him was… nothing. The equivalent of a shrug. A single, curt nod as she said, "Okay."

"That's all I get? Okay?"

Then she actually shrugged and retorted, "I'm not sure what else you expected from me sir." She spoke with a half-smile, like she knew what she was saying was a low blow. It landed with a zing; a smart.

He felt somewhat wounded as he replied, "Can't say I didn't deserve that a little."

"You had me assigned to Wrigley, didn't you?" Chen asked. "Why?"

She didn't miss a thing, did she? "Everything is a test, Boot. If you'd been okay with doing a Wrigley route, I'd know you weren't serious about becoming a good cop."

"And since I wasn't okay with it?"

"Then you stand a chance at being a good cop, don't you? Especially if I have anything to do with it." Tim jerked his head in the direction of the locker rooms. "You should head out. Get some rest. Gonna have a long day tomorrow."

She nodded, then asked nervously, "Okay, but first, can we talk?"

"About what?"

"About what happened in the hospital?"

Shit.

When he didn't reply, she explained further. "It got really tense," Lucy said. "We… okay, I said a lot of pretty heavy stuff." Then, looking a little crestfallen, she asked, "Don't you remember?"

Did he remember? Of course, he remembered. The conversation had basically haunted him -hounded him- for days. Chen and her "you're going to be important to me" had unsettled him, had shaken him.

And then she ignored him for a week.

"Oh, I remember," he replied, and his voice sounded sterner than it maybe needed to for this conversation. "I just don't know why you think we'd need to talk about it." What was there to say at this point?

Her face flushed pink as she stammered, "I mean, all this is really complicated, right? Shouldn't we, I don't know… Shouldn't we establish some boundaries or something?"

"Boundaries? Boot. The only boundaries you need to worry about are the ones I give you for the job."

"Okay, but-"

"You want to talk about boundaries, huh?" he snapped. "How's this for one: I told you I don't believe in soulmates, and yet here you are bringing it up again. You insinuating our working relationship needs boundaries in order to function means you don't take me at my word when I say that I don't believe in it. So what is it? Are you calling me a liar, Boot?"

Lucy mumbled something he couldn't hear.

"Speak up."

"I said, I didn't say they were for you." She looked up at him through her lashes, her gaze icy. Piercing.

Again with those eyes of hers. God, I'm so fucking screwed, he thought. How could he have ever believed she felt nothing? It was evident in the way she looked at him, in the feelings on her face, so clear and overwhelming that Tim almost did something dumb in response. He only just stopped himself from grabbing her by the shoulders and holding her in place in front of him, keeping her still.
Keeping her here.

You feel it, don't you? Tim wanted to ask, but the shock of understanding had frozen his voice in his throat. It's not just me. It's you, too?

But no words left his lips, and Lucy once again assumed his silence was indifference.

"I'll handle it on my own, sir," she told him with finality, that icy gaze narrowing as she spoke. "I thought you'd want to help but clearly I was wrong about you. Been happening a lot lately so I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

He wanted to know what she meant by that. By that, by "you're going to be important to me", by… hell, by everything that she'd said and done since the day they met, but by the time the surprise wore off and his senses returned, she had gone.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I know this is technically ahead of schedule, but I think I'm going to have to abandon the posting schedule anyways. I may need to adopt a "post as I complete" way of doing things; it just depends how these next few months go with IRL events and requirements.

Due to abuse of the function, I'm no longer accepting anon messages on my tumblr and have deleted most of my recent content. Posts pertaining to this story can still be found under the tag chenford timer au, but I haven't decided if or when I'll resume posting show Chenford/The Rookie content over there. We'll see.
'Til next time!